The innkeeper and the girl repeated the journey several times, and soon the bath stood steaming. They threw Amber a few sideways glances, which wasn’t good. He knew they’d leave first thing in the morning. No doubt the innkeeper would remember two English warriors, one of who had unusually long and voluminous hair.
When the two left, Owen locked the door and leaned against it. Amber stood and walked to the middle of the room, her eyes wide.
“Ye should take yer bath first,” he said, his cock swelling again just at the thought of Amber undressing. “I’ll go to sleep. Wake me up when ye’re done.”
He walked to the other side of the bed and started undressing. He felt her watching him, her gaze warm and tingling on his skin. Christ, if he could, he would come to her, take her in his arms, and make love to her in that bath. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t dive into that temptation. He needed to focus.
Besides, she must be exhausted and in pain from the journey.
He got onto the bed and turned around. His whole body ached, his skin sensitive and feeling every scratch of the blanket and the linens against him.
Her clothes rustled as she undressed and dropped them to the floor with the softest of thumps. The image of her naked body flooded his mind—the seductive curve of the small of her back, the sides of her breasts. Owen clenched his fists in an attempt to chase those visions away. They made him harder and hotter.
He heard water splashing and knew she must be sitting in the bath. She hissed slightly, probably from the burn of water against her wounds.
“Actually, can you help me?” she said. “I can’t reach my back, I’m afraid to strain the muscles and tear the stitches.”
Owen swallowed hard. Say nae. Say nae.
He could lose his head over her. If he gave in to this temptation, what mistake would he make next because of her?
“Owen?”
“Aye, lass, I’ll help ye.”
Goddamn idiot. Did he not possess any self-control? It was as though his body had a will of its own. His head screamed at him to stay in bed, but he stood and walked to her.
“Don’t look, okay?” she said.
Don’t look?
“Aye,” he said, ogling her.
She sat in the water hugging her knees, her bare back to him. Droplets rolled down her shoulders. He picked up the soap and the washcloth that swam in the water and squeezed it over her back. She hissed as water flowed down her back. The sight of them made him ache all over.
He ran the cloth down her back as gently as he could. The crusts opened up in places and bled a little. Poor lass. At least now he wasn’t thinking of how much he wanted to be inside her.
“’Tis done,” he said when he’d washed as much as he could without irritating her wounds.
“Thanks.” She took the cloth from him without turning around. He imaged how she’d gently run the washcloth over her breasts, her chest, her neck. Then down her stomach, and farther down…
Getting hard again, he looked away and went back to the bed. As he reached it, water spattered loudly on the floor, and without thinking he swung his gaze to the bath.
Big mistake.
Amber stood naked and wet.
Their eyes met.
“Mother of God,” he muttered.
He was wrong. She wasn’t a heroine from a fairy tale or a legend. She was a goddess. Her skin glowed golden brown. She had full breasts with dark nipples he ached to taste, a small waist, and wide hips. Between her thighs was a black triangle of curls. She had long, sculpted legs with powerful muscles.
She was the image of femininity and strength. His pulse beat in his temples like small drums, his cock swelling even more.
“Lass, do ye want my heart to stop?” he said.
She didn’t cover herself. She didn’t waver. She showed no sign that she wanted him to turn around now. She reached for the fresh cloth that hung on the edge of the tub and wrapped herself in it, leaving only her sculpted shoulders and arms out.
“Don’t get any ideas.” She climbed out of the tub and walked to the bed. “Hope you enjoyed the show, but nothing is going to happen. Get in while the water is still warm.”
She climbed to the other side of the bed and under the blankets. The clean scent of her skin reached him, teasing him, setting his blood to boil. Now that she lay right next to him, with nothing on but a piece of linen, the last thing he wanted was to leave the bed. He longed to reach for her and make her his.
But being with her would cloud his judgment and lead him to lose his head. He couldn’t afford any mistakes while the future of Scotland may be in his hands.
“Aye,” he said, and using all the willpower he had, he climbed out of bed and went to the tub.
Chapter 15
Amber peered from under the blanket at Owen. His powerful back was coiled with muscle and flowed into a gorgeous, round male ass. A beautiful ass she wanted to dig her fingernails in while urging him to plunge deeper into her.
Her back hurt, but her body felt clean and fresh after the warm water. The sight of naked Owen stirred unrest deep within her and impaired her thoughts. Her heart pounded against her rib cage, and muscles deep within her clenched.
He got into the tub without looking at her, but as he turned a little, she saw his hard erection. She bit her lip at the size of it. Was he so aroused because of her? The thought of her making him hard ignited her own desire even more.
Owen lowered himself in the bathtub, still with his back to her, and began washing himself. He sank down into the tub until his head was completely under the water and then rose back up. Droplets trickled down his skin, and Amber wanted to lick them off him.
She closed her eyes, willing herself to think of something else, to distract herself from the heat between her legs and the bubbles of excitement in her stomach.
Just go to sleep, she told herself and closed her eyes. But even though she was tired, she couldn’t doze off. The sound of splashing kept her thinking of a naked, wet Owen. Of Owen inviting her to join him. Of Owen guiding her to straddle him, kissing her, grabbing her thighs, growling with pleasure.
Then the mattress shifted, and he was in the bed.
Amber stiffened. The brush of the blanket against her skin felt like a caress. It augmented her sensations, making the small hairs on her body stand up. She realized their breathing had synced up. The simple linen blanket tucked between her thighs felt coarse against her skin, and his presence was like a warm force field over her.
“Lass,” he whispered. “Are ye asleep?”
She contemplated not responding. If she did reply, she might not be able to resist anything initiated. But she couldn’t resist. “I’m awake.”
“Can I ask ye a question?”
His voice was warm and low and inviting. She opened her eyes and saw he was staring right at her. She sank into their green depths, like a sea of soft clover in autumn. The scent of clean skin, wet hair, and his masculine musk reached her, and it made her want to rub against him like a cat. She could drink in that smell like a well-aged whiskey.
“Sure.” She cleared her throat. She itched to reach out and shift the wet strand of hair on his forehead.
“Why did ye traveled in time?”
Oh God, could he have asked a more loaded question? It was probably innocent enough for him, but for her…